S )   J U N E , 1 9 4 4   -   D E P A R T U R E   F O R   T H E   M A R S H L A N D S

Soon after Peter recovered from his illness, it was time to drive the kulag herds to their summer pastures in the marshlands, several hundred miles east of the sand country. His journal entries depict him as calm, at peace, and looking forward to the change of scene. The nightmares had subsided, save the occasional whisperings of distant voices, but he found himself increasingly wondering what his promise to the old shaman might entail. Curious, he visited Tasak before the caravan departed for the summer: “I question him about my promise to the gods. ’My son, the gods wish to destroy you and then build you anew. You will become a shaman!’ says Tasak. This response throws me into a new fit of panic. I run from the yurt, thankful that I will shortly be a great distance away from the old shaman.”

Peter’s departure for the marsh country coincided almost exactly with the REC expedition’s arrival in the sand country. (see plate 30) He writes: “A huge party is held for all those who are leaving the settlement with the kulag herds. The Buryat hit the quoomis hard, and are soon singing round after round of their farewell song, Fweeleewak Runachuk madal amik Gudl’dull. I will be relieved when we are finally underway.” The next day the caravan departed for the water meadows: “The restless herd is driven hard, and after two weeks we have reached the summer pastures. The grueling work is my only respite from the inner terror caused by Tasak’s prophesy. One evening, I step out of the tent, unable to sleep, stricken with strange premonitions. Over the waterlands, a gibbous moon illuminates baroque cloud formations - the night air is cold, frost is forming on the reeds. A shooting star passes through the constellation of Gemini (der zwillinge, geheimnisvoll, geheimnisvoll) and a vision forms in my head . . . he is with me again, the dark one, speaking to me in an aeroplane of ice as we fly above an unending expanse of snow . . . twin cities, twin lights, double stars, reflecting pools, upside down worlds . . . as I look at the landscape far below us, I hear him ask what it really means to search for something. . . . when I come to, the sky is unchanged, the marshes grey and sparkling. As I stand there, I have a sudden realization: I will not be returning from the marshes.”